I will leave you
where my cap lands, discarded
on the arena floor.
I will shake your hand for the last
time as I receive my diploma.
I will trap you in between
the pages of my yearbook.
I will pack you away in a box
with my baby pictures,
and when I unearth you in seven years
you will smell like teenage heartache
and damp newspaper.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
I will leave you
where my cap lands, discarded
on the arena floor.
I will shake your hand for the last
time as I receive my diploma.
I will trap you in between
the pages of my yearbook.
I will pack you away in a box
with my baby pictures,
and when I unearth you in seven years
you will smell like teenage heartache
and damp newspaper.
Request permission to use this poem